


Lifelines

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles detailing the relationship between one Sebastian Michaelis and Ciel Phantomhive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifelines

**Author's Note:**

> The drabbles are based off one-word titles a friend and I wrote up together. If you want to try your hand at them, be my guest!
> 
> By the way: if you'd like to tell me which drabble is your favorite, I'd love to hear it.

**_Faith_ **

“How long do you think our deal will take?” Ciel asks with one hand palming his eye patch. It aches, the demon’s mark, like his eye is filled with lead.

“As long as it needs to,” Sebastian answers cryptically, and Ciel accepts it, but only because the pain in his head is making his thinking illogical.

“And you’ll stay with me until the end?”

Ciel needs to hear it reaffirmed one last time—his trust isn’t easily gained, not by a long shot, but he tells himself it isn’t paranoia if there’s actually something to fear. He’s putting his faith in a creature that destroys faith for a living; he feels his anxiety is warranted.

“My lord,” Sebastian says smoothly, reproachfully, “I am nothing if not loyal,” and kneels in an effortless motion that Ciel can’t trust. He does anyway. 

* * *

**_Expectations_ **

“I didn’t think you’d be…” Ciel trails off as he realizes exactly what words are about to tumble from his lips.

“What, my lord?” the demon asks, but Ciel just blushes and turns away without answering.  _So attractive_ is what had come to mind, and he doesn’t think that’s quite appropriate to think, let alone _say_.

* * *

**_Self-Control_ **

The days pass and Sebastian feels his bones begin to ache in the familiar gnaw of hunger that claws all the way from his toes to the tips of his ears.  He desires a soul to eat.  He desires Ciel.

His hands do not tremble when he pours Ciel’s Earl Grey, but his mind does. 

* * *

**_Unhelpful_ **

“You missed a spot,” Ciel points out from his place against the desk.  Sebastian pauses for a moment, but then continues dusting as though nothing has happened and Ciel stifles a smile.

* * *

**_Beauty_ **

“Must I wear this?”

“Your fiancé bought it especially for you.”

“But it’s ugly as sin.”

“She seems to like it.”

“That doesn’t mean much.”

“She will be terribly disappointed if you don’t.”

“Goddamn it.”

“I highly doubt your deity will come to your aid in this endeavor, my lord.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.” 

* * *

**_Phobias_ **

“I hate clowns,” Ciel grumbles, and sinks lower in his chair.  Sebastian quirks an eyebrow.

“Is there any particular cause for your hatred?”  Sebastian finds his curiosity piqued; he hadn’t heard of this phobia of his master’s.  He wants to know where it came from.

“They’re scary,” Ciel mumbles.  Sebastian smirks fondly—only the top of Ciel’s head is visible above the desk. 

* * *

**_One-of-a-Kind_ **

“You’re such an enigma,” Ciel gripes over dinner.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Sebastian says loftily, partially to tease, yes, but also partly so he can get a closer glimpse at what’s on his own enigma’s mind.

“I’m trying to tell you—” Ciel swallows, though there is no food in his mouth, and takes a deep sip from the glass of water in his shaking hand.

“Yes…?” Sebastian prompts.

“I’m trying to tell you you’re special, you bastard, so stop making it so bloody difficult,” he snaps, and crosses his arms over his chest in a huff.  Sebastian feels a smile welling up in his chest and he lets it curl his lips—he is at his master’s side in two fluid strides.

“I must agree,” he whispers as his fingertips brush Ciel’s cheekbone.  “You are truly, my lord, one of a kind.  And I cherish this.” 

* * *

**_Jealousy_ **

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” Lizzie asks with her eyes soft and concerned.  Ciel hisses when one of her small fingers brushes the edge of the bruise that blooms a handprint over his left knee.

“Not advisable,” he grunts through clenched teeth.

“I’ll just have to kiss somewhere else then,” she breathes and leans forward the few inches to push their lips together.  Ciel kisses her back—it’s expected—but his eyes meet Sebastian’s after they part and the look on his butler’s face could freeze hell. 

* * *

**_Gamble_ **

“How the fuck you’re supposed to be my butler when you’re always sacrificing yourself is beyond me,” Ciel growls as he practically rips Sebastian’s bonds from his wrists and ankles.  His face is a mess of frown lines, and it makes Sebastian chuckle to see such a mask of worry on his usually apathetic face.

“You came,” he gurgles through the blood welling up in his mouth.

“Of course I did,” Ciel snaps as if Sebastian hadn’t made a gamble at all.

 

 

* * *

**_Patience_ **

“I want to _die_!” Ciel screams as he hurls a large book at the wall.  This isn’t the first time the thought has crossed his mind, but it’s the first time he says it with such volume in front of the butler that is charged with keeping him just the opposite.

Sebastian doesn’t offer words of compassion or comfort, but he does clasp his hands over Ciel’s shaking shoulders.

“Patience,” he says quietly.  Ciel wonders how far gone he is that _that_ word is the one that eases his mind.

 

 

* * *

**_Grip_ **

They are dancing fruitlessly around the issue at hand, Ciel knows, but he can’t bring himself to act on what his heart is whispering into his mind.  Sebastian enters a room and Ciel’s breath constricts in his chest, solidifying into solid lead that pins him to wherever he stands.  He cannot move.  He cannot breath.  He cannot go on like this.

So the next time Sebastian slips closer than strictly necessary, to whisper something sarcastic in his ear, Ciel doesn’t allow him to move away again, pushes him against his desk and slides his tongue into Sebastian’s mouth without a word of warning.  He doesn’t want gentle; he doesn’t want _nice._   He wants Sebastian—and from the way his butler is gripping the top of his arms and kissing back almost violently, Ciel assumes the feeling is returned.

 

* * *

**_Insecurity_ **

“Sebastian?”

“My lord?”

Sebastian steps closer to his master and feels the tension radiating from where Ciel stands, hands clasped together behind his stiff back to keep them from trembling.  Ciel’s face is turned away, but Sebastian knows how blank his expression must be.  Ciel is good at hiding things.

“I desire a cup of tea,” is what Ciel says, but _Help me, please,_ is what Sebastian hears.  Ciel always speaks in layers; if Sebastian couldn’t do a simple thing like decipher what his master is really telling him, what kind of butler would he be?  If he couldn’t do just that little thing?

“Anything for my master,” Sebastian purrs, because he knows that Ciel needs the reassurance every now and again that he _wants_ him, not because he is ordered to, but because he desires the closeness Ciel brings him when they are entangled in a mess of limbs and zero promises whatsoever.  Sebastian has a thousand words for what they do running through his head, but none of them are beautiful, and certainly not fit for someone as complicated as his young master.  He wonders idly whether he should maybe invent a few.

“Thank you,” Ciel says, and Sebastian hears _I love you_ in his tone.

“Not at all,” he replies, and his eyes send _I love you, too_ toward the back of Ciel’s head.

 

 

* * *

**_Lifeline_ **

Ciel, for all his posturing, feels out of control most of the time—if his life is an ocean and his mind a ship, then the only thing keeping him from capsizing is his anchor, who happens to be pouring the afternoon’s tea with a small smile curling his lips like steam.  Sebastian’s eyes flick upwards for a moment and another wave rocks against Ciel’s heart.

 

 

* * *

**_Zero_ **

Ciel tries to count the things of importance he did before meeting Sebastian, but no matter which way he turns the events over in his mind, he still arrives at the frustrating grand total of zero.

 

 

* * *

**_Dreams_ **

“Carry me home,” Ciel says quietly, and Sebastian does, his arms folding around him in a way comforting in its familiarity.  Ciel is used to the steady rise and fall rhythm to Sebastian’s breaths, the gentle rocking motion of Sebastian’s strides, the heartbeat that thumps evenly in the demon’s chest no matter what their pace.

Ciel sleeps, in Sebastian’s arms, and for once, he doesn’t dream.


End file.
